Gracefully Grace
by mearealbusinesspersonhowdy
Summary: This is just a little crack!fic to please my best friend, who is sad. I know it says Who/Sherlock but there are also many other characters from many other shows. Will there be inside jokes? yes. Might you find it funny anyways? I don't know. I don't know you. Please under NO circumstance take is seriously. rated M for cussings and butt-touch.
1. Chapter 1

Gracie LaFaveur was walking down the streets of new york with a spring in her step that could only be compared to someone wearing those dangerous plastic moon shoes of the early nineties. It was a beautiful spring morning in the city, and as she walked through town the crust and grime and blare of car horns seemed to melt away on a cool breeze, as soft and fragrant as a fresh-bloomed fart.

Passers-by would testify that all this joy was in fact trailing in the wake of young Miss LaFaveur, who in addition to her bouncy step was humming a jaunty sort of tune. You see, things were already going her way this morning, and, unbeknownst to her, the job interview she was heading to would change her life forever.

"hmmm-hmm-hmm" she sang to herself, coming up to the door to a very big and insanely fancy office building. The door was held open for her by a side character of no importance, but she still graced him with a sweet smile and thanks, because she's basically a disney princess. "hmm, hmmm... I'm an adult... I can wear shorts whenever I waaaant..." a nearby janitor nearly fell into a swoon at her sweet crooning as she waited for the elevator.

She caught her reflection in the mirrored glass inside the lift as it swooshed her elegantly upwards in the exact way those hand pumped water rocket toys never fucking do. She was wearing an elegant but professional dress in a cream shade that brought out her brilliantly blue eyes, and was carrying a designer handbag large enough to hold one small dog and one disembodied head of medium proportion, although at present it only held her resume and a few essentials.

She strode confidently out of the elevator and up to a prim secretary sitting behind a very deep marble desk. It was so deep that Gracie thought it might be necessary to fold her resume into a paper airplane and throw it at the head of the man, who was in turn so incredibly prim that she thought perhaps she could hear the leather upholstery of his chair squeaking even farther up his buttocks.

"Hello, I'm G-" "_Miss_ Graciela LaFaveur... yes, I know" the secretary interrupted her rudely, in a rude manner. "You're here for the interview. It had better not be a secretarial position – you could never replace me" Gracie bit back her many scathingly witty responses and merely fluttered her eyelashes in a surprised southern lady sort of way. This was no doubt the way of New York and she had better get used to rude people jealous of her sparkle.

After staring at each other in increasingly awkward silence for a few minutes, the man made a quick call on his headset and then gestured her through. "Mr. Scott will see you now" he snivelled.

Gracie took a deep breath and began the five minute walk it would take to get her past the very deep and imposing marble desk and into the office (heheh get it?). But she took it with her held held high, because this was her Big Chance and things were Gonna Work Out Great.

She had no idea.


	2. Chapter 2

She was quickly ushered into the boss's office by some peppy and highly caffeinated assistants. It was a _bit_ unusual for the head honcho to interview someone for an entry level position, but Gracie only nodded as though this was exactly what she had expected.

What she had NOT expected was to have another awkward silence perched on a chair staring at the back of another swivelly office chair. She sensed her hopefully-future employer had a bit of a flair for the dramatic.

Abruptly, he turned to face her. He was a normal looking man, with short dark hair obscured, for some reason, by a du-rag, and clutching in his hand a #1 Boss mug that she had a sneaking suspicion, since she was ever so clever, that he had bought for himself.

"SO... Misssss LaFaveur..." he said promptly, waving the mug around as though hoping she would notice it. He coughed. "Quite the impressive resume you have here" a copy was sitting on his desk. In fact it was pretty much the only thing on his desk besides an assortment of pens and an overflowing inbox. And a computer, quite obviously. Don't make me point out every little thing.

"it says here you've worked as an au pair before... some parts in plays, to rave reviews... ah, and there's a very lovely drawing of a butt, here"

"Oh yes" she replied "I included the drawing, Mr. Scott, because I think it is definitely one of my strengths. Datass data assimilation is a very important and fast growing field."

"Too true. And do call me Michael... I'm not like other bosses... I'm a cool boss. But I notice there is nothing on here about secretarial experience"

"Ah yes, well.. eh hem hem." it was fake it till you make it time. Time to turn on the infamous LaFaveur charm. Go time. Time to go. Go ham. "I know it seems a bit spare, but I'm a real go-getter, a fast learner, and I'm available to start right now"

He leaned back in his chair, regarding her over the edge of his mug. "I'll be honest with you, Miss LaFaveur. That's very important. Some might say we've been finding this position hard to fill. _Some_ might say the position is... cursed. _SOME_ may even go so far as to say-"

but Gracie never got to find out what that was, because in his classic Michael Scott way, he'd put his foot in his mouth, this time literally.

She waited in polite silence for him to extract it, coughing, at one point disappearing behind his desk to wheeze in an unflattering way. When he straightened up, the du-rag had fallen off. She tactfully ignored his hat hair as well.

"I'll be honest, Graciela. Can I call you Graciela? Your resume is exactly what we're looking for. We need someone used to dealing with unruly children. Someone who is used to drama and divas. Someone who is used to working with asses... one way or the other."

"I'm your man!" she replied with more pep than three of the bustling assistants taped together. "Well. Woman. Lady. Professional?"

"Hey! that's what I wanted to hear. Can you start right now?" He leaned across his desk expectantly.

"Whaaaaaaa?" Gracie gasped

"by the way, this is our offer of salary" he slid a slip of paper with so many zeros across the table.

"HUAAAAAAAAAAAA" She gasped even more. The air in the room was becoming a bit thin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

After signing some paperwork, Gracie was peppily ushered to her new desk. It wasn't deep or marble, but it was a richly stained hue and polished to a shine. It stood a stately guard in front of a closed office along the back wall, the only one to lack windows facing the cubicles. The door was also solid, matching her desk, and the knob was a blisteringly shiny bronze. It was classy, understated, and blatantly out of place in the gray-and-beige office that looked like every single other office, ever.

The desk held a single red telephone in the classic style, and a desktop computer. A quick search of the drawers turned up only basic office supplies.

"So! On the job training." said the woman, who had introduced herself as Christine. "When this phone rings, You'll know someone is coming up to see him. That's the _only_ time this phone will ever ring. Whoever shows up, you scan their ID badge. Computer says they check out, let em in. Computer says no clearance, you press this panic alarm" the assistant pointed out a small button that swelled like a dark pimple from the front edge of the desk, then plopped down what looked like a wireless price scanner from the grocery store. "So wait, who am I actua-" "WELLP that's all you need to know, the job's kind of slow, but you can go on tumblr on THIS bad boy all you want" Christine slapped the top of Gracie's new monitor like it was a tasty can of ham. "Bye then."

Gracie found it incredibly odd that she knew nothing about her new boss, or the fact that she would be doing little that constituted real work. The zeros on her paycheck and the apparent inability to fill the cushy position did make her worry as well. What was it Micheal had said? That the position was... cursed?

She stared at the door. Who knew what lay behind it. If they knew something she didn't know, having just moved to town, she was darn sure not to shrink back from it. No siree. That was not the Grace Way. Plus, she needed the job. Needed the job as desperately as only a beautiful woman escaping a nebulously dark and tragic backstory did.

"ExcUSE ME" said a voice from behind her, startling her from her reverie like a bird that was also startled by something. She faced front again to see a small man, with disheveled brown hair and a little beard. He was wearing a short sleeved white button up with a blue tie, he was standing with one hand on an overloaded mail card, the other gripping a handful of mail.

"Are you Pepe Silva?" he practically squeaked at her. "What? No, I... I just started here today." she replied. "Look at this. It's all for him. Only nobody by that name works in this whole office building, I know, I've checked every floor but this one so far." he now hopped up and sat on the edge of her desk, throwing letters across its barren surface.

Gracie closed out her window of tumblr, giving the short man her full attention. "Um, this is odd, but maybe Pepe is the guy that I work for? Only I've never met him, and they didn't even tell me his name? Can you believe that?" the mail man gave her a nonplussed sort of look. "Didn't you find that kind of strange?" he exclaimed. Gracie leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankle over her knee for comfort. "Well, yes, but _you see_, I kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinda just got here, so."

They stared.

"No wait wait... this is good, this is good." he said, running a hand through his hair. He gesticulated at her wildly. "Don't you see? You can be my _in_, upstairs. You and me, we can team up, figure this out. Things that go on in this building, they don't quite make sense. But we can solve the mysteries."

"I love mysteries" she replied, leaning forwards. "Graciela LaFaveur" she proffered a hand. "I'm Charlie" he said, shaking it. His hands were warm but rough with several papercuts.

"Meet me in the mail room on lunchbreak" he decided, leaping up and shoving the mail cart back into motion. "And bring like, ten hoagies."


End file.
